


Growing Pain

by allandnot



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-10 06:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allandnot/pseuds/allandnot
Summary: The story of a kid who goes to be trained at the Sith academy on Korriban as part of the Brotherhood of Darkness before Bane got there.  Some of the teachers from the Darth Bane Trilogy by Drew Karpyshyn are in there, but it's mostly original characters.The idea I'm going for is trying to deal realistically with the philosophies and cultural dynamics involved in a Sith Academy, relating to the emotional development of a child in can be understatedly described as an unpleasant educational setting, and to delve deeper into the meaning of the Sith beyond as the bad guys.Bullying TW.  It isn't particularly explicit, but this is a school for Sith, so there will be some depictions of violence, and general bullying.





	1. Chapter 1

**Growing Pains**

 

**Chapter 1**

 

The first thing that Ian Doshan noticed as he walked out of Dreshdae Station and saw the walls of the Sith academy, was how cracked the walls of the temple were. It was clear that the walls had degraded over time, but it also seemed to Ian that the place was physically abused over time, and that ambiguity scared him. At the age of fourteen, Ian was sent to the academy in hopes that he would prove himself worthy of the Doshan name, and nothing short of the title of Sith Lord would do.

Standing at 1.50 meters tall, with short cut brown hair and green eyes, Ian looked like a generic, computer generated, image of a spoiled, middle upper class child. F-32, the family protocol droid walked behind Ian, and the familiar mechanical sounds of her walking comforted him just enough to keep him from running away screaming, as the cracks on the wall whispered to him that he did not belong, that he was unworthy. Despite having the same male humanoid build as all standard protocol droids, Ian had decided that F-32 was a she when he collected the then inert droid from the store. "Goodbye, sir Ian. I hope you do well in your studies" were the last words he would hear from that voice, maybe forever. "Thank you, F-32, I hope so too" he replied, looked at her leaving, and found the strength to walk into the looming building.

The entrance to the stone structure was maybe four meters tall and eight meters wide, with a large stone door in the center which had to be moved manually to the side. Despite the cracks and the weathered looking state, the entrance did not look old and feeble, but rather ancient and powerful, as if it might, at any moment, rise from its slumber and devour any who disturbed it. Ian was startled when nearly walked into the Sith guard, garbed in the standard metallic armor of the Sith soldiers. Covering every inch of skin, from foot to head with sleek metal, except for the face which was covered by a tinted glassteel visor, the man, or woman, standing before Ian might as well have been a war droid, lacking any and all expressions of identity. Ian was afraid that he might be forced to do the same in the academy, as the bland mask of his facial expressions around his family would be taken away, and the identity he hid would be destroyed to create some sort of automaton. Before he had enough time to consider the possibility further, the guard finally spoke: "What's your business here?", he, it seemed, said with a lack luster and tired tone, suggesting that his shift was nearing its end, and that there was no superior officer around to reprimand him for dropping the precise, tight, and organized tone of an imperial soldier. "Ian Doshan, sir", said Ian, having long ago been taught to push down his shyness and timidity. "New student at the academy". The soldier checked his datapad, taking his time, scrolling name by name. "There you are, Doshan", he finally said, having found Ian. "Go on in", he continued and ushered Ian in. Ian could not see his face, but there seemed to be a thin smile hiding behind the soldier's visor, as if he were a predator inviting his prey into a trap. Or maybe it was just in Ian's mind.

As he walked in, and past the guard, who returned to his bored posture, Ian felt trepidation, but not the kind he had felt as he looked at the place; it was stronger, more real. After a few steps he realized that it was not like any trepidation he had ever felt before, and somehow he knew that it wasn't unfamiliar because it was a new form of fear, but rather because it wasn't coming from him. As he walked, and his lower consciousness went inward to tell the fear to be quiet and let him handle it, his mind replied that the anxiety did not come from it. So, deciding that there was no real danger, he walked briskly through the entrance to the academy itself. As he walked through a second sideways opening stone door, before his eyes adjusted to the slightly darker lighting, and to analyze the scene, he felt a sudden explosion of pain on his gut. He instinctively crouched down and grabbed his stomach, as he realized the pain was from an external source as a voice above him spoke. "You think you're so smart to ignore the Force coursing through the entrance hall, huh?" said a strong deep voice above his head. "Well here is your first lesson, newbie, always assume that everything around you wants to hurt you, unless you see a reason why it wouldn't, and even then, consider that it still might". As Ian looked up, he saw the horned head, and yellow skin of a zabrak in a dark military uniform which Ian assumed was that of a student. Ian's tormenter stood at least twenty centimeters taller than him, with a dark grey skin and numerous short and think horns protruding from the top of his head, and was probably older than Ian, though it was hard to tell with different species. Ian still did not understand exactly what was going on, and so he did not know exactly how to respond. However, he knew that people like this zabrak looked for weakness in others and punished it, believing in their hearts that weakness deserved to be punished. So, he got up, dusted himself off, and looked the zabrak in the eye, showing no fear, and yet keeping his features blank, and his eyes soft, so it would not look like he was issuing a challenge. The zabrak stared at him for a few heartbeats, and seemed to find no more reasons to beat him, though Ian was ready to flee, remembering what was just said to him. Eventually, the zabrak's stare lessened, and he gestured towards a doorway to Ian's left with his head, never taking his eyes away from Ian. Just as he had been taught, Ian took three steps while still keeping eye contact with the zabrak, bowed slightly and turned around, heading for the doorway.

Walking through the doorway, Ian's mind was working on unraveling the strange sense he had about the place; as if the academy presented a wordless riddle. It was something about the cracks. He thought back to the kick from the zabrak, and to the red his eyes saw as the breath was blasted out of him. His stomach was still sore, and he placed a hand on it protectively, but he knew that the pain was not the cause for his mind's return to the image. He was beaten up in his studies too often, and generally more violently, for the memory of a single kick to take a hold in his mind. Something about the color red was drawing his concentration. Red anger... Red blood... Red veins... He was careful to return his concentration to the room he would soon be entering, rather than walking into another beating. Ian entered a large, square, and empty room with two further branches, leading to other corridors and other rooms, in front of him, and to his right. He entered the empty room which the zabrak gestured towards, not knowing what to do with himself.  So, he sat with his left side to the wall holding the door he just came through, hoping that anyone else who walked in wouldn't notice him, or at least would avoid him.  He sat and he waited.


	2. First Lesson

 

_Peace is a Lie, there is only Passion_

_Through Passion, I gain Strength_

_Through Strength, I gain Power_

_Through Power, I gain Victory_

_Through Victory, my Chains are Broken_

_The Force shall Free me_

 

This is the Sith code, which is written on plaques throughout the Academy. One of the students was asked to recite it by the large Zabrak Sith master who introduced himself as Master Borthis of the Brotherhood of Darkness. Ian supposed it would be speciest to wonder if he's related to the bully who struck him in the entrance, but it would have explained his attitude, if his father or uncle was a Sith master.

The boy walked over to the plaque in the entrance, giving Ian a few seconds to get a measure of the room he, and the other students, were in. The room was clearly a training room, as it was full of students, in shiny new uniforms, and various training equipment, including gravity weights, which could change weight using magnetic controls, as well as course jumping equipment, dummies, and racks with metal staves. In the Western-most side of the room were large stairs used for sitting during lectures and demonstrations.

The room itself, and the stairs, were made of polished stone of faded brown, which seemed that it could survive the passage of millennia before any wind could damage it, not that even a light breeze could enter the room. The student had recited the code as Master Borthis stood there. "Good, now return to your seat." Borthis said as the boy finished reciting. "What do you understand of this?" he said to the class. No-one wished to speak first, afraid of making a mistake, but Master Borthis just stared at them for what felt like an eternity, until another kid said: "That we must fight and be strong?" Master Borthis shifted his horrifying gaze over to him, stared at him for a few seconds, and finally said: "That is part of it" and he shifted his face back as he paced back and forth, like one of the teachers in regular school. "However, the main element which you must first understand precedes combat, and that is what we will focus on first. Specifically, that 'Peace is a Lie', and 'there is only Passion', which is the bedrock of Sith philosophy". Ian looked around to see if the others seemed to understand, but to his relief they seemed as confused as him. "You see, that which defines life is a balance of creation and destruction. This can be seen in predatory animals, which destroy the life of others by killing them, in order to consume them and create new cells for their bodies, and even in plants which take sunlight, gases and water and corrupt it so that they may grow larger. Do you understand?"

The class was silent and dumbfounded, not understanding what it is he wanted from them. Ian, going against his better judgment said: "I don't understand, sir. What does eating or breathing have to do with creation and destruction, and what does this have to do with being a Sith?". Master Borthis looked at him, and to his surprise he gave a slight appreciative smile. "At least one of you has the guts to admit your ignorance, while the rest of you stare at me like Shaak waiting for the butcher" he said as he turns back to his lecturer's pace. "What is your name, boy?" he said without looking at me again. "Doshan, sir" Ian replied immediately, afraid of being noted and marked for further bullying, but more afraid of offending the master. "Well, Doshan" he continued as Ian tried to seem interested but not over eager, so as not to be painted a teacher's pet.

"Firstly, when a Tuk'ata or a Kath Hound kills its prey, it is destroying its life, which is the most simply form of destruction, and then consumes it which is the most simple form of creation, which is maintaining that which is already created. This you understand?" He seemed to direct the question at Ian, but he looked at the entire class, gauging their reaction, and continued without waiting for a response. "While slightly more complex, other forms of life do exactly the same thing. Plants, such as grass, for instance" he chuckled for a moment as a few Korriban natives raised their eyebrows in confusion at "grass" which did not grow on Korriban and which they would never have seen. "It does not move in the same way that animals do, being rooted to the ground, however like all other plants, it grows, which is a form of movement. "AND," He said raising the index finger of his left arm high in the most muted show of excitement Ian had ever seen "in order to grow, it needs to breath in Carbon Dioxide, and consume sunlight which it uses as food, or simply put, energy". He paused for a few minutes to stare at us, and seemingly to give us time to process, and continued "Thus, just as a predator may destroy life around it so that it may live, so must the most passive of living beings cause destruction in order to do the same, and so will we as Sith." At the mentioning of "Sith" the others perked up slightly, though none of them were foolish enough to slouch before a Sith Master. "And that is the meaning of 'Passion'; the continuous struggle of Destruction and Creation which all living beings of all forms must maintain. And that is why 'Peace is a lie', because 'Peace' would have us give up 'Passion', grow stagnant and die."

As he ended he scanned the student's faces and finally landed on Ian. He continued to stare at Ian seeming to expect him to speak, but Ian didn't think that it would be a good idea to speak without being spoken too, so Ian simply nodded his understanding; even though he wasn't sure that he did. "Now, we will begin physical training" and at the others visibly bristled, excited to get up and show the master what they could do. To this he said "the physical training of the Sith is important, and you may become powerful through it, but in order to be a true Sith Lord, you must learn and understand my lectures. Those who show understanding, will be accelerated in their studies and given deeper, private instruction" He turned away, and gestured us towards the exercise equipment.

  
The students started with a warm up exercise, giving the more physically fit students an opportunity to demonstrate their worth. They ran a few laps around the room, did some arbitrary number of pushups and sit-ups, and finally stood in attention on a line in front of the southern wall. "Now," said master Borthis "it's time to see what the lot of you are made of". Those few students who demonstrated their physical prowess looked at the smaller students with savage glee, waiting for the order to beat them. In particular, was one rather large trandoshan girl who looked ready to snap his jaws on whoever, or whatever, was closest. trandoshans were essentially humanoid lizards. With green scales, long, lizard-like tongues, and sharp canines. They seemed to Ian like the bi-product of some sort of crazy experiment. The trandoshan, went as far as taking a step towards a smaller bothan, of all things. "What are those creatures doing here?" Ian thought as he looked at the upcoming exchange. While the trandoshan seemed somewhat to fit in, being the predator that she was, the bothan's presence seemed entirely out of place. Standing at 1.2 meters, which was the standard height for bothans of that age, covered in fur, and a canine face, he seemed to be the most unthreatening being Ian had ever seen. Despite Ian's prejudices, he didn't like to see the trandoshan bullying the smaller student, and when she raised a clawed hand to strike, seemingly intending to perforate the bothan's chest, Ian began a step to stop him. Luckily for the bothan, and ultimately for Ian, before the trandoshan could land a blow, she was suddenly flung violently against the wall. Ian first thought that another student had pulled him, but as he peered ahead, around the students who stood in line between me and the encounter, all eyes were on the Bothan, as if he was somehow responsible. Unsatisfied with that answer, Ian looked around, and understanding hit him as he saw Borthis with his hand casually extended towards the two. He must have used the force to break up the fight before it started. As the eyes of the other students followed Ian's reasoning, and were fixed on Borthis, he walked over and calmly said: "You are not here to be trained as beasts, or as pit fighters. You are here to be trained as Sith lords, and Sith lords do not lower themselves to fist fights. Or claw fights, as the case may be."

In the stunned silence that followed, as the trandoshan, despite her thick looking skull, got up groggily and fell over again, Borthis pointed to the eastern side of the room, and to the metal staves that were set up there, in horizontal lines, on holders. They walked quickly to take one, fearing a concussion, as the trandoshan must have gotten. "Pick them up by the hilt on the right side" Borthis warned, but not before a twi'lek girl grabbed one from the center, and immediately dropped it, making a number of loud clangs as the staff hit the floor. A few seconds later, she began screaming in pain, and staring at her palms as they began turning red. None of us dared to walk towards her and try to help, giving questioning glances towards Master Borthis, who just looked amused. Ian picked a staff with trepidation, being careful to only grasp it on the black marked end, and returned to the line on the southern wall with the rest. It was unexpectedly light, feeling almost weightless in Ian's hand, and yet sturdy. Ian understood that this will likely be some sort of combat lesson, but he had no idea what the staves were for, or what they were going to do with them.

  
"Now," said Borthis, with the girl still screaming in pain, "let us see what you are made of... You!" he pointed at one of the students, a human boy with brown hair "and you". Ian almost took a step back as his nailed finger pointed itself at his throat. "Step into the ring". Next to where they picked up their staves, was a circle about three meters in diameter, into which Ian and his opponent entered. The brown haired boy walked with confidence, holding the staff from the corner, with a two handed grip. It was only then that Ian realized that the staves were essentially practice swords, probably to teach them to use lightsabers as the Sith masters do. The girl was still screaming, but Ian tried to put her out of mind. Ian studied his opponent's stance and grip, and tried to copy him. Ian stood there, leaning on his right foot, with his left forward, holding the staff tentatively. He was sure that he looked pathetic. "Begin!" yelled Borthis, and his opponent leaped towards him with glee. He came at Ian with a vertical slash, a strike that would have crack his head open, if Ian hadn't managed to bring my staff up above his head to block the strike. With a surprised look at being thwarted, the boy snarled and lashed out a few more times, aiming for Ian's head, and torso, all of which he managed somehow to block. Ian had just begun to develop a sense confidence at his battle prowess, when the boy pulled up a strike short, which was aimed for Ian's ribs, and would have been stopped by his own weapon. Instead, it struck the handle of Ian's staff, wrenching it from his grasp. Before Ian knew what happened, the savage brown haired boy followed up the disarming strike with one at Ian's side, blowing the air out of his lungs, and causing an explosion of pain. At least, Ian thought it was pain, because what followed it made the blow from the metal staff feel like nothing. It started with a numbness, which took away the pain of his, most likely, cracked ribs, but what followed felt like what Ian imagined being on fire felt like. Ian found new sympathy for the girl who touched the staff. He did not hear her anymore though, nor what Borthis was saying to the class. He lay on the floor, clutching at his left side in the fetal position, trying to beg for mercy, but not even managing to scream. Ian caught a glimpse of his opponent, beaming with his success, looking at Borthis, and occasionally glancing at his downed foe. Ian was waiting for some form of relief, for a medical droid to take him away, or for unconsciousness to take him over, but none of these things came. Ian just lay there, in agony, for longer than he thought time could go. He felt outside of time.

  
As Ian lay on the floor, trying and failing to scream, the boy who beat him, Zeb, the brown haired human, was jumping for joy at his victory, and screaming taunts at the rest of the students. Taken aback by the very clear pain which every student could almost feel as it racked Ian's body, and some could actually feel through the force, none of them replied to his boyish bluster. It was Borthis who stopped his childish demonstration, by walking towards him, placing his hand on Zeb's shoulder and saying: "Well done, Zeb, now get back in line".

  
The sparring sessions continued for another few hours, though to Ian they might as well have been lifetimes. Ian was dragged off of the combat circle, and left still writhing on the floor for the whole event, but after some unknowable amount of time, something changed. Something clicked inside Ian's mind, and he realized that his failure was not his fault. He only realized what was going on because he imitated Zeb. He was unprepared, he was sent here to learn, to grow, to realize his potential, and yet all that was given him was pain and spite. From the zabrak, from Zeb, from Borthis who did not send for a medical droid to help him deal with the pain, and fundamentally from the academy itself. It was not his fault, and it was unfair. It was wrong. This realization opened a floodgate of emotion in Ian, and strongest of all was anger. Pure rage. He did not realize it at first, but at this internal shift, there also came a shift in his circumstances. Specifically, he felt pain, but somehow, he was no longer bothered by it. It was there, but its sting was dulled, and even nourished him. After some time, using his rage, and the strength given to him from the pain, he demanded that he no longer be laying on the ground like a weakling, and he willed himself to get up.

  
After rising and regaining his composure, he turned his ire at a source. "You!" he yelled at Master Borthis, with an accusatory finger. "You knew what would happen! He was already trained, and you let me fight him anyway! You set me up for failure!" Normally, Borthis would have reprimanded Ian harshly and violently for such a disrespectful tone; perhaps even killing him as an example to the rest. However, Ian was the only student in the room, the rest having been dismissed to shower and eat, and so there would be no point in doing so. More importantly, Ian was right, but not for the reasons he thought. "Yes, I did" was his calm reply. "Why?!" Ian screamed, barely able to contain his fury. "Because you have great potential" Borthis replied. Ian was thoroughly confused. He had great potential? What did that even mean? His confusion was clearly shown on his face, and Borthis answered it, not bothering to wait for the questions to be formed into words. "You see, Doshan. The code of the Sith is more than just words, and today you learned the first line of the code on your own flesh. You are frustrated because you were placed into an unfair situation, but 'Peace is a lie' and so is fairness. Very few beings ever get what they truly deserve, but know that in life, those who are weak will fall, and those who are strong will rise. Whether that is fair or not is unimportant. It is what it is, and what there is is 'only passion'. You have the potential for great passions, but it was hidden, buried out of fear of consequences, and in order to become more than an insignificant speck in time, to become a true Sith, you have to unearth it, and to use it, as anger". Borthis finished his lesson, and walked away; not bothering to ask if Ian understood. He either would, or he wouldn't, and that was that. Before he managed to clear the room, Ian quietly said: "Why did it hurt so much?" Borthis stopped, turned and said: "As I have already said, the training saber is comprised of durasteel, and is covered by the microscopic stingers, taken from the pelko bug, which causes numbness and pain, simulating the feeling of being struck by a real lightsaber." and left the room.

  
Ian stood there, stunned. He thought back to his moments of anguish, now completely gone, and he understood. Master Borthis placed him in a position where he would have to either rise up through his fear and anger, or crumble and fail. Ian was not going to fail.


	3. Training Begins

**Chapter 3**

  


_The sound of fumbling on the walls, the ding of the keypad unlocking the door, as it recognized the keycard, and the slamming open of the door. Father is home. He had Corellian Ale, and some Vodka. You could tell by the sounds of his palms hitting the walls as he tried to keep from falling over, as well as the smell. There was something else though. As he walked in, there was the faint feeling of a headache, as if from far away, but there was no fatigue. Father was on a rampage, or at least, it was building up inside him. I turn in my chair to the door, to see him looming, absorbing the light around him. He walks over and raises his hand, ready to strike me with the back of his hand. He is here to punish me. I am no good. I am weak. I am a liability._

  
Ian woke with a start, but years of waking up from nightmares, and being punished by his brothers for disturbing them, in their one bedroom for four brothers, trained him to wake up silently. Screaming internally, but not moving a muscle or making a sound. He was awake, and remembering where he was he even considering going back to bed, but he caught a glimpse of the clock, and saw that the barracks alarm would start ringing in 3, 2, 1. The alarm blared, and Ian got out of bed, and started getting dressed, still anxious over the dream, but determined to forge forward in his training, and not let anything get in his way.

 

Ian and his fellow students walked quickly to the training room, with the eagerness of children. They entered the training room and saw Master Borthis already standing there, looking angry, and staring with a violent threat at the students as they found their way to their seats on the pyramid shaped seats on the southern corner of the room. "Today, " he began directly, "you will begin your official training. The first part will be physical exercise, but first you must learn to meditate, to use the force to fuel yourselves. Close your eyes". Some of the students hesitated, wary of a trick, but Ian closed his eyes immediately, trusting that no student would be foolish enough to do anything while Master Borthis was teaching. "Focus your mind on the force, on the currents of energy which wind themselves around you. This is the energy of the universe. You must connect to it, you must recognize that it is yours, and you must take it, feeding your strength with it." Ian sat there restless. He wanted to do something, to strengthen his body, to find the power which the Sith code spoke of. This whole thing was stupid. What was the point of just sitting there?! And is if in answer to his internal whining, Ian suddenly felt as if he was falling.

His consciousness and senses were drawn outward, as if some gravity or vacuum sucked them away from his physical body. He suddenly, without anything as crude as sight, became aware of the energy flowing through the academy. His anger and frustration gave way to fascination. "Enough! get up, and begin jogging." Came the sudden command of Master Borthis. Ian did not wish to let go. He would have stayed in that place of understanding forever, but his concentration was broken by Borthis' command, and with a sigh of regret, he got up and joined the others.

They began in a quick pace, eager to get out of their chairs, and Borthis yelled "Slow down! You are meant to warm up, not waste what little strength you have", and the whole class, even Ian, flinched, expecting one of them to be punished violently, but Borthis simply stared at them with distain.

They summarily followed his command and continued jogging lightly. This gave the students a false sense of security in terms of the grueling nature of their physical training. They all understood that the training would be difficult, and that some of them would fail, though they all thought it wouldn't be them. However, they expected that the light jogging was meant to warm them up without tiring them early, suggesting that the training was, to some extent, just a matter of pushing themselves slowly over time. This reminded the students of their regular physical training in school, recreating in them a sense of comradery and social codes. They soon began pushing each other, and making boasts about how they'll "ace the training", and become powerful Sith lords. Ian was too distracted by what he had experienced in meditation and had no reaction when one student pushed him out of the way. He simply realigned himself without even thinking about it and kept running. If Borthis minded this behavior, he did not show it, having moved to a desk to read an ornate red and black lined leather tome, no doubt filled with Sith secrets.

After a few more minutes, Borthis looked up and said "Enough! It is time to stretch, now watch closely." He rose from his chair to center of the room. "Stretching is very important, but I do not intend to repeat this with you again." He began with turning his head around slowly, in various directions and repetitions, moving on to different muscle downward. The students followed them, but being of different species, they did not follow him exactly, each working on their own different muscles. Ian was paying almost no attention at all. His body simply went through the motions of stretching which he had learned in his physical training at home, and his mind continued to ponder. He had learned that his world, the galaxy, and existence itself were much bigger than most thought. "Now, " Borthis said as he stood back up from stretching his feet, "You have thirty minutes to run around the outside courtyard 10 times. Starting now", and the students seemed almost to panic, and then raced out of the room. Ian, lost in thought, reacted slower than anyone else, and only, after a few seconds, when he looked around to see where his fellow students had gone, did his mind fill him in on the command given by Borthis. His cerebral musings flew from his mind, and he raced to catch up.

The race around the courtyard was difficult, but not impossible, and some of their bluster was taken away in the full runs. This was firstly due to the fact that their energy, and their breath, had to be saved to maintain their pace, and their place in the run that had become a race, which seemed to be a solidifying of the social pyramid of the students. Secondly, it was barely morning, and they began to tire, their short meditation lesson not having given them nearly enough energy to manage it all. Ian, despite starting slightly later, and having to run faster to catch up, barely felt winded.

They finished the run and returned to the training room panting. "It would appear that one of you has managed to learn something" said Master Borthis as they entered. The trandoshan and a few others were foolish enough to think that Borthis might have been speaking of them, and they puffed up their chests. "Not you, you idiots!" snapped Master Borthis, and raised the familiar nailed finger at Ian's throat, "Him". Before the other students had time to digest this information, Borthis gave further instructions. "Now, we begin the physical exercise". He pointed at the gravity based exercise equipment. "Complete three courses of all of these! Quickly!". They scrambled to reach the machine and fought to be first in line. Ian, bolstered by Master Borthis' confidence in him, scrambled with the rest, and found his anger growing in the tumultuous and animalistic scramble for the machines. He knew that fighting to be first was pointless, since there were enough machines, but Master Borthis said "Quickly!", and Ian was done being pushed around. He was too late. The other, physical stronger students had reached the machine, and had begun wrestling, and pushing each other around. Moreover, Ian felt fatigue starting to claw him down as he struggled through the mass of limbs and torsos, and he felt the fear and resignation enter into him, and he hated it. He hated the other students, he hated himself, he hated it all, and he lashed out. With a primal scream, he pushed out with his arms at the students in his way, but more happened. His fury broke beyond the confines of his mind, and shoved the students aside. All fifty of them lay on the ground, as Ian stood there like a conquering hero surrounded by bodies. One of the big students at the front began to rise, but he leapt to him, shoved him down to the ground, and sat on the exercise machine. He continued to stare at the large blue skinned, feeorin whom he had just shoved down. He braced himself, as the feeorin was poised to leap onto Ian, and "Enough!" yelled Master Borthis. "You are Sith, not animals. Enough wasting time, and start on another machine." Ian suddenly realized that he had won. For the first time in his life, he had actually won. Ian sat on his throne of glory, won through a show of great power, the reality of his throne being exercise equipment not in any way disturbing his personal image as the conquering hero. After exercising his arms and legs in various ways as the equipment changed and reconfigured around him according to its many modes, he got up and allowed the next one to sit there. There was a small scramble to try and cut in line, but no actual violence as was before, the students having developed a healthy fear of Master Borthis. Borthis himself looked at the scramble with disdain. He considered their fear and discipline to be lacking, and he wished that he could simply kill one of the weaker students to make his point, and nip this childishness in the bud, but his orders were to keep as many students alive as possible. "Those who failed the training might still have promise as soldiers. There is no point in wasting resources" Said Kahn, the de facto leader of the Brotherhood of Darkness; the dark lords of the Sith. Borthis was a Sith Lord, but he would abide by Kahn's ruling.

Ian was sore from the exercise, but more than that, he suddenly felt weak. The fire that burned in him died out, and he realized that it was due to his victory. He had righted the wrong, and so the strength of the dark side had left him as his anger drained. He had to find another source or he wouldn't make it through the training. He looked around for some inspiration for newfound rage, and he saw it. The trandoshan was walking towards him. Ian simply walked towards him, determined to pick a fight which would rekindle his anger. Ian had seen the trandoshan's type before, and he knew that he would expect Ian to move aside. Ian didn't and their chest bumped against each other. "Watch where you're going, meat" said the Trandoshan, straightening his back to tower of Ian. "If you're so tall, why don't you look where you're going?!" Replied Ian barely hiding his fear of the lizard-man's claws. "You're the one taking up so much space, why don't you take some responsibility for yourself?!" The trandoshan's arm shoved at Ian violently, though he did not tear Ian's chest open with his claws. Ian fell over with a thud, and before he had the chance to rise, the trandoshan had his foot on Ian's chest, and simply said "You're not worth my time".

At that, he lifted his foot and kept walking. He did not see Ian's stare of malice, nor would he have given it any regard, had he seen it. Ian got up, his anger rekindled and his strength restored. The trandoshan believed that he had crushed Ian, if not physically, then in his social standing in the academy. Ian certainly understood the damage done, but he also understood the strength that would come from his rage, and that once he could control it, he would have the power to make his place in the hierarchy of the academy. Ian was not worried.

Their next exercise, titled "stamina training" by Borthis involved standing with special heavy jackets filled with what must have been lead. They stood with wide stances, and bent knees, for what felt like hours. Inevitably, some of the students began to fall over, or were foolish enough to stand up straight and quit the training. When this happened, all of the students were forced to complete ten squats, and when a few of the student did not return to their feet within ten seconds, Master Borthis would come over with a training staff, the same ones filled with the needles from the Pelco bug, which mimicked the feeling of being sliced by a lightsaber, and whack them a few times, forcing the students once again, to train with the sound of their fellow student's screams of agony.

Ian, the fatigue of his strength training purged by the fire of his anger, stood as study as the ancient walls of the academy, and did not complain about the squats. He did as he was told, with determination, willing all around him to drop and leave him standing above them all.

Master Borthis hoped that beyond the physical training, the deeper meaning in this exercise would get through to some of the students. A military officer would introduce collective punishment to bring his unit together, to teach them that their mistake endangers the unit, and that they must work together as one to achieve their goals. Borthis' lesson was very different. He wished them to recognize that others were a burden, and that they must shed this burden and rely on themselves to achieve their goals. Self-reliance and self-interest were central to the Sith code, and even the new rulings of the Brotherhood of Darkness would not erode them.

The next part of the training was necessary exercise, but it was more of a test than anything else. Master Borthis took them to another training room, which was the same size and shape as the previous one, except that it was empty, save for a computer console near the entrance. "Your next exercise is agility training." Master Borthis explained. At this there was a general sigh and murmur from the students as they could barely stand after the grueling exercises. "Each of you will take a turn bringing me that" and his nailed finger pointed at an object in the other side of the room which was impossible to see at their distance. "Begin!" he said, before they even had a chance to order themselves in a line. There was no scramble for going first, the majority wanting little more than to collapse in a tired heap. The big students, those who saw themselves as the top dogs of their class, which included the trandoshan, the brown haired human who beat Ian in the dueling ring, in the previous day, and two zabrak, shoved a human forward to be the first one. Having been distinguished, and Master Borthis starting to get angry, the boy raced forward on shaky legs. His eyes fixed on the objective, he didn't see the floor part to his right, just outside of his peripheral vision, and a metal rod came out of the floor and whack him on the head. Grasping his head and yelling out, the boy was disoriented, and his vision was blurry, but he continued, or tried to as the floor beneath his feet opened and flung him backwards. "Next!" yelled Borthis before he even the boy even hit the ground. Next, one of the zabrak, the male, went forward, having understood the concept of the exercise, and wishing to show no fear. He fared better then the boy, being quicker, and hardier, but he did not get much further, the room seeming to recognize his confidence and responded with a harder challenge. A few more went forward, and fell back hard, before Ian decided to try it.

He knew that the others were weak and tired from the previous exercises, while his connection to the dark side of the force kept him fresh and strong, and he ran forward, determined to show his worth, and to define his place in the top of the hierarchy by achieving Master Borthis' challenge. Ian ran forward, expecting his legs to be free of any aching or fatigue, but his ability to draw on the force was not limitless, and his legs betrayed him. He stumbled, nearly falling before the course even began, and the metal rod which hit the first boy flew at his face. He dropped to his knees just in time to avoid having his head whacked, but the trap door, which was intended to fling him backwards simply hit him in the chest, the edge of it striking at his windpipe. Gasping for air, and his momentum stolen by the trap door, Ian was no longer moving, but the course had other ideas. It was programmed to continue attacking anyone within the course, intending to force whoever it was out of the area, but if the person let himself become prone, the course would simply continue to attack, and not allow them to get up. Staves, boards, and other various shapes of metal struck at him and he managed to evade them, barely.

Grasping for air and his legs and arms beginning to spasm from overuse, he barely managed to stay ahead of them, but somehow he did. He seemed to know where the attacks would come from, and be able to react accordingly, but he couldn't figure out how to get out. He realized that in order to survive the assault, or at least to avoid another day in the medical kolto tank, he would have to jump at the trap door, which would send him backwards. He did so, narrowly escaping the rod that nearly took his head off as he threw himself forward at the trapdoor, but it wasn't enough. He did not make it to the center of the trapdoor, which would throw him off, rather he simply set himself up to receive another heavy blow from it. He made no sound, but his mind screamed with denial, and his will escaped the confines of his body again as he felt a barrier of energy between him and the trapdoor, which cushioned the blow.

In his exhausted state, it was not enough, and the barrier exploded and in a moment of absurd luck he was thrown backwards from the concussive blast, back to the feet of Master Borthis. There was some laughing at his failure, though it was muted by the general fatigue, and the fact that as inelegant as his attempt was, nobody else got much farther than he did. Ian lay on the floor for a few more moments, then drew himself up, not hurt, but his ego, and determination having taken serious blows; though not lethal.


End file.
